


Pretty Things

by cedaris



Category: Winner (Band)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Angst, It doesn't end happy, Kinda, M/M, a lot of angst im sorry, jinhoon is very slight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-03
Updated: 2016-09-03
Packaged: 2018-08-12 18:18:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7944478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cedaris/pseuds/cedaris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Taehyun is an artist. He likes pretty things. He likes things that mean other things, things with depths and depths of meaning, things that are abstract and impossible to understand and really mean nothing at all. He pretends to understand them. He’s an artist, after all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pretty Things

**Author's Note:**

> hello~ i really should updated my chaptered fic and write for ww but i did this instead. well.
> 
> it's been? a month? i've been busy with school and other things and i still will be, so it's slow updates from me :((
> 
> my first namsong! i was also experimenting with a different writing style so i hope i succeeded in showing what i wanted to show
> 
> i hope you like it!

“We still groped for each other on the backstairs or in parked cars

as the roads around us

grew glossy with ice and our breath softened the view through a glass

already laced with frost,

but more frequently I was finding myself sleepless, and he was running out

of lullabies.”

—Richard Siken

  


It starts like this.  
  
Taehyun is an artist. He likes pretty things. He likes things that mean other things, things with depths and depths of meaning, things that are abstract and impossible to understand and really mean nothing at all. He pretends to understand them. He’s an artist, after all.

 

Song Minho is pretty. He’s pretty and beautiful in a dangerous kind of way. He says one thing and means other things. His eyes are dark and unreadable and hold depths and depths of meaning. He’s abstract and impossible to understand and maybe sometimes his words mean nothing at all.

 

Naturally, Taehyun falls in love.

 

The way they meet is harsh and fast and euphoric, a little like lightning and a little like ecstasy. It’s Mino’s hands under his shirt in the back of an alley, Taehyun’s skin prickling from the rough of the brick wall, his nails leaving angry lines down his back.

 

(Mino’s not as rough as he seems. He kisses Taehyun’s hair softly, after, helps him tidy up his clothes and leaves him his number. Taehyun calls him back.)

 

It’s not a romantic meeting by any means. “We were both horny and drunk at a bar so we fucked” isn’t a story they’d proudly tell their single friends on bachelor nights. Still. They work. Taehyun likes to think they work.

~~~

 

Taehyun is at Seungyoon’s apartment because he can’t look Mino in the eye for more than two seconds without dropping them and turning away. Seungyoon has his guitar and messy music sheets on the tabletop and both his email and a mixing program open on his laptop. Seungyoon wants to be a producer. He’s been sending demos and tracks to record labels for years. He hasn’t been successful so far.

 

It hasn’t been that long since Taehyun left this place. The room next to Seungyoon’s still houses drawers full of Taehyun’s socks and bits of paper and old watercolour paints. His toothbrush is still sitting on the sink in the bathroom they used to share. It could be due to Seungyoon’s laziness that he hasn’t cleaned the place up, or his sentimentality.

 

Taehyun’s known Seungyoon a long time. Their parents were friends. He’s known him at five years old, crying over a skinned knee at the playground. He’s known him at sixteen years old, bright-eyed with his new guitar. He knows him now, at twenty-two, in a shitty apartment on the edge of town. Seungyoon still plays the guitar but he’s a lot less bright-eyed.

 

The door jams a lot when Taehyun tries to open it. The ceiling is damp. The pipes leak. The apartment is a dingy place on the fringes of the city that no one cares about. It stands, hesitantly, at the crossroads of three streets, and there are warehouses behind their building. Barm street is a noisy stretch of pubs and clubs and bars. Crescent street branches off into the city, serious and cold and mostly filled with blue-collared workers commuting to and fro. Shadow street is a dead-end.

 

Except, it’s not really a dead-end. There would be no point calling it a street or giving it a name if it didn’t lead somewhere. Taehyun hasn’t been there but he knows Mino has.

 

It’s the kind of run-down, shady place people would prefer to pretend doesn’t exist than try fixing. It's hidden behind an extra-large warehouse and there are gangs who fight and thieves who steal and women and men alike in skimpy clothes smirking at passers-by and asking for prices. Taehyun and Seungyoon wouldn’t live there if they had a choice, but college doesn’t guarantee you a secure job or a bright future like they tell you.

 

Mino doesn’t live far, in a housing complex on Crescent. He likes to pretend he’s never set foot in Shadow street.

 

Taehyun’s at Seungyoon’s apartment. He’s there because Mino came home bruised and beaten up and he can’t look him in the eye for longer than two seconds without dropping them and turning away. He’s been to Shadow again, Taehyun knows.

 

Shadow street clings to Mino like the remnant of a bad dream he can’t shake off. It’s sunk claws in him. His parents lived on Shadow street. So did Mino. Point is, it’s not Mino’s fault that Shadow street runs in his blood. It’s not his fault he has a dragon inked across his chest, the kind from Chinese myths that are long and scaly, not the Western ones with wings and tails. It curls a little down his left shoulder. He wears baggy shirts and long-sleeves to hide it.

 

There are more people out there with the dragon tattoo. Mino runs into them sometimes, like tonight. They’re still after him.

 

“We’ll go somewhere else,” Mino pleads, on nights like these. “Someday. We’ll get the hell out of here when we can. When I—when I clear the debt. Please. Trust me.”

 

And Taehyun leaves because he can’t stand the sight of Mino’s blooming black eye and the reason behind it. He leaves because he knows he’s not any better. He’s a struggling artist getting by with a serving job at a bar on Barm street, and he’s as pathetic as Mino is.

 

Seungyoon makes tea for them. Taehyun sips his slowly, but it burns his tongue anyway.

 

“You staying here tonight?” Seungyoon asks. It’s late.

 

“Yeah,” Taehyun answers.

~~~

 

The thing is, Taehyun doesn’t know all of Mino’s secrets. Sometimes Mino goes still and his face gets contemplative and Taehyun doesn’t know what he’s thinking about. Depths and depths of meaning. Taehyun can’t figure him out. It bothers him.

 

“I thought you were getting better,” Taehyun says. He’s on one end of the couch and Mino’s on the other, holding a bag of ice to his face. It’s morning, and Taehyun’s back from Seungyoon’s. “You’ve got that job now, down at the pub. I thought you were getting better.”

 

“I’m trying, really. It’s a lot of money. They’re—impatient.”

 

Taehyun snorts, arms folded. “Impatient is an understatement.”

 

Mino sighs. “I’m sorry. I’ll try harder. I’ll pay it off and then we can leave, yeah?”

 

Taehyun glances over at him. He’s pouting, and he looks so plaintive and sad that Taehyun relents and loosens his arms and Mino crawls into them gratefully.

 

It’s a vicious cycle.

~~~

 

Sometimes, Mino comes home in a frenzy and kisses Taehyun into the bed and Taehyun lets it happen. It’s Mino’s way of forgetting, burying memories in the slide of their bodies and burning touches on heated skin. Mino finds solace in his arms, cries himself to sleep even after, and Taehyun kisses his head and makes shushing noises.

 

Taehyun feels it sometimes, like he’s at a standstill while the world spins around him. He’s stuck in time with Mino because Mino has issues to clear up and Taehyun is kind of in love with him so he stays. He stays and paints, starry skies and flower gardens and abstract swatches of colour, but it’s not enough. He’s going nowhere. The life he wants isn’t like this.

 

Mino’s place overlooks the highway at the end of Crescent street. It’s a bit louder here than in Seungyoon’s apartment, but Taehyun can see the silhouette of the city beyond the noisy traffic lanes, and he can dream. He went to college there. He did art there and met peoeple who did art there and he wants to return, someday. Maybe the metropolitan life is overrated, but it’s better than whatever hell hole he’s stuck in right now. It’d be nice, to live there with Mino, maybe be able to sell his art.

 

Taehyun can dream.

~~~

 

Seungyoon calls excitedly one day and invites Taehyun over and Taehyun learns that his years of sending demo tracks to music companies have paid off. A pretty big company in the city centre is inviting him to be a producer.

 

Seungyoon can’t stop smiling and talking and he’s bright-eyed again, twisting his hands with nervous anticipation in his lap. Taehyun sees the sixteen-year-old with the new guitar. So he swallows down the bitter taste in his mouth and tells Seungyoon he’s happy for him and to call him often even if he’d be living far away. He teases Seungyoon about forgetting him entirely for his new flashy life and he’s only half-joking.

 

The world is moving. Seungyoon is moving. Taehyun is not.

 

Seungyoon’s already packing his things in boxes when Taehyun leaves. He doesn’t stay to help him.

~~~

 

Seungyoon moves away. He visits Taehyun at Mino’s door before he does, moving van already rumbling impatiently downstairs. He’s a little giddy and fidgety, nearly vibrating with excitement as he clasps Taehyun’s hands and wishes him well and hugs him tearfully over and over again. Taehyun smiles, hugs his best friend back and tells him to do him proud. He tries not to cry. Mino raises a hand in farewell when Seungyoon leaves, slipping an arm around Taehyun’s waist at the door.

 

“I’ll be expecting to see you guys there soon, you know,” Seungyoon laughs, winking. Taehyun doesn’t respond, just waves him off as the creaky elevator doors close behind him.

 

Mino is silent, too. Seungyoon and Mino are, at best, acquaintances. Maybe Taehyun had subconsciously gone out of his way to make sure they never had a chance to get to know each other. Seungyoon was his, just like Mino was his. They were both extremely important to Taehyun, but they were such different worlds and held such different meaning for him that he’d never wanted them to clash.

 

(“You're bad for me,” Taehyun says later that night. It's a question. Open for discussion. Mino is welcome to try and defend himself. Taehyun almost hopes he does.

 

Mino doesn't. He laughs a little self-deprecatingly, says, “probably.”

 

Then he kisses Taehyun. Taehyun lets him.)

 

~~~

 

There’s a sympathetic bartender at the bar Taehyun works at who mixes him some free cocktails after they close. His name is Jinwoo. He’s three years older than Taehyun but he’s handsome and delicate and wide-eyed and Taehyun feels like a weed next to him. But it’s fair, he supposes. Jinwoo is a beautiful soul. He’s kind and generous and smiles a lot, unlike Taehyun.

 

“How are you, Taehyun? Honestly” Jinwoo asks quietly, cautiously, as Taehyun sips at a mix of coke and rum. “How is—Mino?”

 

“Mm,” Taehyun murmurs through a mouthful of alcohol. It's bitter, burns down his throat. He doesn't blame Jinwoo. “He’s fine. He's trying.”

 

“He better be. He's what's keeping you here, right? You always said you hated it here.”

 

Taehyun considers this for a moment. Swishes the dark liquid around in his glass. Decides not to reply.

 

“Seungyoon moved,” he says instead, edging around Jinwoo’s question. Jinwoo frowns a little, but lets him change the subject. Jinwoo likes Seungyoon. Seungyoon comes to the bar sometimes to find Taehyun, and sits and chats with him over a beer, and Jinwoo absolutely adores him. Seungyoon’s a likeable guy, Taehyun knows. He’s bubbly and optimistic and friendly. So is Jinwoo. The two of them together is like an explosion of rainbows and sparkles and everything good in this world.

 

“Yeah, he specially came over to tell me yesterday. He’s doing well for himself, isn’t he?”

 

“Yeah. Yeah, he is. I hope he gets big in the music industry. No, I know he will.”

 

Taehyun means it sincerely. Even if it feels like Seungyoon is leaving him behind, he knows he’d make it out there. He’s just that kind of person. Taehyun already misses him a little.

 

The manager, a guy named Lee Seunghoon, chases them out of the bar after a while. He’s waiting for Jinwoo, Taehyun knows. They always go home together. They hold hands in the backroom sometimes. Jinwoo smiles even more than he already does around Seunghoon.

 

Taehyun refuses to admit that it’s envy he feels when they bid him goodbye and walk off ahead of him, linked hands swinging.

~~~

 

Taehyun gets a letter from Seungyoon a few weeks after his departure. Of course, he thinks, as he extracts the brown envelope carefully from the mailbox. In an age of emails and instant messaging and Skype, of course Kang Seungyoon would choose to send him a letter, properly and primly written with “Dear Taehyun” at the start and “Yours sincerely, Seungyoon” at the end. The envelope flap even has a smiley-faced sticker attached to it. It’s ridiculous and endearing and so very typical of Seungyoon. He doesn’t have time to reply Taehyun’s texts but he has time to write him a three-page letter.

 

Taehyun reads it alone in his room. Seungyoon had written about his new apartment and how the sink doesn’t leak any more, detailed the cute little cafe below his unit, talked about all the people he’d met. He has a new friend and fellow producer named Woo Jiho. His neighbour plays rock music too loud at night. The old lady who sweeps the sidewalk smiles at him every morning.

 

Taehyun realises, abruptly, that Seungyoon’s world is expanding and increasing and he’s become such a small part of it. He knew Seungyoon at five years old, sixteen years old. He might not know him at twenty-two.

 

At the end of the letter, Seungyoon tells him he misses him and to give him a call when he finally makes it to the city. He says he’s waiting for him. He also says to check his email, but that comes later.

 

Taehyun’s not sure how to respond. A letter containing a single line of, “all’s the same with me, don’t forget your poor best friend when you’re rich and famous” wouldn’t go over very well. So he doesn’t.

 

He opens his email. There’s a message from Seungyoon with an mp3 file attached. A demo, he writes. They’re working with one of those flashy, trendy boy bands on the title song of their next mini album. Taehyun listens to it.

 

His first thought is Seungyoon could easily have emailed his whole letter to him. His second thought is the music was too poppy and upbeat and not Seungyoon’s style at all, but he had to start somewhere.

 

(He finds the album on iTunes, months later, after Seungyoon texts him excitedly to go look. Most of it is too electronic and mainstream, but there’s a B-side track with Seungyoon’s name under it that dips slightly into the rock genre and reminds Taehyun of guitar strings and messy music sheets spread out over tabletops in a shitty apartment on the edge of town. He buys and downloads the single song, and listens to it on replay for a week.)

~~~

 

Mino’s been getting home later and later. Taehyun’s worried, but Mino won’t talk to him.

 

He finds out anyway, one evening on his way home from work. A tall guy with a mean face and a dragon tattoo pushes him into a wall and tells him to leave Mino alone. Taehyun’s terrified until he sees him.

 

Mino’s standing a little way away, behind the guy. He’s wearing a singlet. Taehyun can see the dark curl of the dragon’s tail down his shoulder.

 

“Shit,” he bites out, struggles against the man’s hold. There are tears burning his eyes. He feels sick. “Song Minho! You liar! You fucking liar! You said you were getting better! You said you would leave with me!”

 

The man snorts. Mino can’t meet Taehyun’s eyes.

 

“He’s with us now,” the man sneers. It’s worse than any blow he could deal Taehyun.

 

They leave, eventually. Taehyun watches Mino’s back disappear. He wonders if he should run after him. He wonders if he can even go back to Mino’s apartment. He wonders about Seungyoon and best friends and big cities that promise bigger dreams.

 

He wonders about Mino, mostly, and all the romance stories he’d ever read and watched. Run after him, the stories say. Fight for true love. Make him come round.

 

Song Minho is pretty. He’s pretty and beautiful in a dangerous kind of way. He says one thing and means other things. His eyes are dark and unreadable and hold depths and depths of meaning. He’s abstract and impossible to understand and maybe sometimes his words mean nothing at all. Naturally, Taehyun fell in love.

 

He takes out his phone, dials a number. The line rings steadily.

"Hey," Taehyun says, before the person on the other end can answer.

  
“Hey,” Seungyoon says, surprised.

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos make my day <3


End file.
